Just over a year ago, I met someone in response to a reddit post designed for one-off or NSA encounters. A woman half my age responded, and said she had Daddy issues and was available that night, and then sent a drop-dead gorgeous pic. I was skeptical to say the least. When she offered to skip the drink and meet me at my hotel, I was even more suspicious.

But when I saw her step out of her car and walk towards me, my skepticism was erased. She was as advertised, and I was smitten. Ther was that ever so rare, instantaneous chemistry. I will say it now, though I would never have said it then - it was love at first sight. When I slapped her face during our first fuck, and she said "harder, daddy", something inside me melted. When I slapped her again, she said "harder, daddy" one more time. And meant it.

And that was the start of something special.

We ended up seeing each other three times that week, and three days on each work trip I had after. Most times, it was amazing, hours-long sexual gymnastics, and occasionally it was just a night hanging out, chatting, and enjoying each others' company because we were too tired from the night before. We always gave each other one night off on my visits, because they were intense, but we hadn't realized why just yet.

In between visits, when a month's time kept us apart, we chatted daily, all day long, during the work week. She knew and respected my situation, and didn't interfere and was actually downright supportive. On my third trip out about three months into our affair, something clicked when she was sitting astride me, just joking around. She saw it in my face and asked me what I was thinking, so I said it.

"I love you."

She was 24, had never had a steady boyfriend, never mind a married lover, and I didn't expect her to say it back, and told her so. But two nights later she did. And we both knew that the other meant it.

Sometimes it hapens in life. You find a person who just 'gets you'. And you get them. And you want to see them happy, and you want to be the person that helps make them that way. And sometimes, that person isn't your spouse. That doesn't mean you love one more or less than the other. You just love who you love.

Six more months passed and it was amazing. But then, very suddenly, my work-life got bad. Beyond really bad. I couldn't devote the attention I needed to either woman I loved. Both were suffering. And I had to make a choice, even though I didn't really know what I was doing at the time. I had to choose to give my wife what she needed, or our marriage was going to die.

That meant giving my lover less.

It wasn't intentional. It wasn't malicious. But it was neglectful. And when it is that other person' first love... That hurts. Badly.

So when she said she thought it would be better that we didn't talk any more, I knew I had hurt her, but she didn't say that. She didn't want to put that on me. That's how good of a person she is. And she did it all with a smile and her usual upbeat demeanor.

So I said okay. I didn't ask the questions that I normally would, because I was in a bad place. That was unfair to her and that probably made it easier for her to say goodbye.

I respected her ask. I didn't reach out for a couple months, but when I did, I just sent her a message that I was thinking about her, and I hoped she was doing well. I got a read receipt, and no response. So I let it go.

Six months passed, and I finally started to be in a better place, so I reached out again. This time I got no read receipt, and simply assumed she deleted the app.

Another month passes, and I wake up early on a Sunday morning, from a dream about her. Those are the toughest. I go to my office, and log on, hoping to see a read receipt, but still there was none. And then my phone rings. A number from her city's area code, at a time I should be getting no calls from there. I answer the phone with hope, but there's nothing but silence at the other end. Robocall.

So I pull her number up from my message history, and do the one thing I should not do. I text her.

And she responds.

And it is a good conversation. She's doing well and has made some positive changes. She thanks me for helping her learn a lot about herself. And she tells me that she wanted more, not just communicaiton, but physical presence, and knew that wasn't possible, and she thought she deserved better. Not saying that I was bad or had done something wrong. Not asking me to change something for her. Just telling it like it is, as we always did with each other.

She was right. She deserves better.

And that's what hurts. And that's the hardest part of letting go. When you love someone, and know you could have given them better, but your life was already written with one direction in mind, and that person knows their direction is different.

You want what you had, know that it became something more than you ever anticipated, and wish you could just rewind to that certain point where it was all just *right*. Those nights where you just laughed and fucked and cuddled and commiserated about life in ways other people dream that they get to do just once in their life.

This is me, trying to let go of a 24 year-old woman who accepted more about me than any other friend has ever known, including those I've had longer than she has even been alive.

Trying to let go. Every day. Because she deserves better.